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Or fantasizing.
And I have kept it secret about dating him. This is the first serious relationship I've had. They would tease me no end if they knew—and that’s why they don’t know now.
Oh,fiddlesticks! I’ve got no one to talk to about this! I certainly don’t have a “BFF” to talk to. Never really did. Just my family, and some casual work friends. That is my world. And Hendrik, my first serious relationship.
Serious? How serious can it be with him if he won't even tell me who hereallyis?
Aw, Dadgummit! I'm an idiot.
With no one to confide in. With no one to moan and groan to.
So I'm just stuck wallowing all by myself in my own anger at the man.
I could ask Craig to tell me what he really knows. Now how could I threaten Craig into spilling a secret that he has kept, or almost kept, for so many years?
Bah Humbug! I have nothing to hold over Craig, and he was so embarrassed at his slip-up the other day that he's not about to confide in me or anyone else about it ever again.
And just think about it, woman: How can a man of such wealth who employed so many people for so many years have kept his own identity a secret with such success? My Hendrik cannot be Hank Enders! The truth would have come out ages ago if it were so.
Maybe Craig was referring to some Asian geek. Han Drak. Hen Drake.
Aw, stop it! You’re driving yourself crazy based on no facts whatsoever!
Then again ... Rich people can buy silence. Rich people can buy anything they want. But why would my Hendrik—and I'm not saying he's Enders—but why would he want to hide who he is from anybody? He's such a great man!
Sure, he's really quiet. He's definitely on the shy side. Contrary to big mouth me. None of that could explain why he would be media shy. I can't think of a single reason for it.
Aw, Fiddlesticks! I'm driving myself crazy thinking about it.
No facts? Ah, facts!
I know.
I had a sudden inspiration. I really needed to find out if Hendrik was who he said he was.
Or not.
I hop on the subway and go to the club where I met Hendrik. It was still daylight, earlyish for the club, although they seemed to be doing a fairly solid Happy Hour business.
I recognize the bartender only to discover that he, Ralph, is the owner of the place. I ask him just nonchalantly as I sip on an orange juice what he knows about that acoustic guitarist that used to play here a couple of nights a week. “Has he been in lately?” I ask.
Somewhat to my surprise, he tells me about the man. Ralph reveals to me that some years ago the man just came in, sat down, unpacked his guitar, and—without a word to him or anyone else—just started playing.
Here I thought Hendrik was so shy. Well, maybe we’re not such opposites after all if he can do a brazen thing like that.
Ralph said, “I can’t forget that first night. He played. Didn’t look at anyone. For all I knew, he was maybe wacko. Maybe he was mistaken about where he was. Got the address he meant to come to all wrong. But when he paused that night after quite a long, amazing piece of music, he got a smattering of applause. He came back and every time he came in for the first few months, he'd get a little applause. But the odd thing is he never talked to anyone. Not one single word came out of his mouth. I thought maybe he’s not wacko, just maybe mute, you know, unable from birth to speak or somethin’. He was just kind of a very shy guy.”
I ask, “Didn’t it bother you that he just kind of came in like that?”
Ralph said, “Naw, he was no bother. And hey! I got free entertainment for my customers, right? It got to a point where he was coming in on regular nights every week and since this place has a regular crowd, it got so there was no more applause. But just a nice recognition that, ‘Yeah, guitar man’s in tonight. Cool.’ I saw that my customers not only weren’t upset, they liked it. So I just let it happen.”
Getting late. You should get going. The subway runs less often at this hour.
Well, I’m kind of undercover, getting more intel about Hendrik, so I go back to my neighborhood cover story and ask, “Well, I really like music. And he’s not here anymore, right? So … Are you doing any karaoke?”
To my surprise, Ralph says, “Aw, no lady, please! You're the fourth one who's asked this year about it! Anyway, I'm thinking seriously about doing it. But not yet. Better to have Mr. 12-String here.”
I ask, “Well, why don't you just test it out? Just start one night per week on your slowest night and I'll come in and kick-start it for you. I love honky-tonk and heavy metal.”
